Gaiwan.I filed the word away to turn over in my head later.I loved learning new words.It was like finding interesting beads to string together.
He poured a small bit of water over the tea leaves and the heady aroma of bergamot grew stronger.Erik uncurled my fingers, cradling the back of my hand against his palm.Resting his thumb at the place where my pulse beat at my wrist, he traced the lines on my palm with his fingertips.My breath caught in my throat.It was nothing more than intense hand-holding, so why did it feel like his touch woke my whole body, making it bloom like the tea in front of us?
“Now that it’s awake, we brew.”
The old man filled the Gaiwan with hot water and covered it, but I was more focused on Erik’s hands.I didn’t know whatbrewingtranslated to in Erik’s hand dance, but I’d never been a fan of public groping.I’d read too many of those forced orgasm stories to not assume Erik had a similar scene planned.Thedon’t let the waiter know you’re coming while he reads you the specialsones.As much as I wanted his hands on me—I could admit that much to myself—the idea of squirming in my seat opposite the tea-making man while Erik fingered me under the table didn’t make the top twenty list of things I wanted to experience.
I tensed up, shifting slightly in my seat in case I needed to make a quick escape.My entire focus shifted from the tea brewing process in front of me to the man beside me, and I had the same predator/prey feeling from earlier.When he leaned in to press his lips to my ear, I couldn’t hide the way I flinched.
“Relax, Alexandra.”His breath felt hot against my ear, and I had the crazy push/pull desire to curl into the shelter of his body at the same time I wanted to move away.“I’m not going to do more than hold your hand.Pay attention so you remember the steps.”He pitched his voice low enough that I was sure the older man didn’t catch his actual words, if he was even paying that much attention to us.He seemed completely focused on the tea.
I nodded, shifting my attention back to the process in front of me, both grateful and disappointed when Erik leaned away.
“Now we decant.”
Less than half a minute had passed, which seemed awfully quick to brew tea, but when the man poured the steaming liquid into the shallow bowls, it was a rich amber color.Erik let go of my hand and a sense of loss overwhelmed any relief I’d been feeling.I missed his touch the instant it was gone.He picked up his cup and waited for me to do the same before bringing it to his nose.I watched his chest expand out of the corner of my eye as he breathed in the scent.The handle-less cups were thin porcelain and the heat from the tea warmed my hands almost but not quite to the point of burning.
I held the cup for a moment, simply feeling the warmth transfer from the almost translucent clay to my palms and the place Erik had been touching me moments earlier.I didn’t know whether I wanted the heat to burn away the sensation of his touch or call it back to life.Honestly, either was a lot to expect from a cup of tea.With the care the older man had taken making the tea, rushing to taste it felt wrong.Lifting the bowl, I inhaled and breathed in the rich scent.I took a moment to try to discern the different notes: the sharp scent of bergamot, the tannin-rich tea, and overtop of it all, the delicate clean floral of lavender.
I’d already experienced so much just from the process, tasting the rich amber liquid felt almost secondary.Until it hit my tongue and everything I’d been breathing in exploded in my mouth.I was never going to be able to look at good old Lipton the same way again.
“You can brew many cups from these leaves.Each will have its own taste and characteristic.”He lifted the domed lid to show me the tea leaves, plumped up and dark-green/brown instead of the black they’d started as.
When he went to get the kettle of boiling water, Erik took my hand in his, bringing it to his lips to brush a kiss across the back of my fingers.The gesture was almost chivalrous, but it sent heat unfurling through me and for a moment I felt a kinship with the tea—blooming under his touch.
––––––––
“THANK YOU FOR takingme there,” I said three cups of tea later when we were back in Erik’s car.
I felt like I might float away on a sea of tea, but I’d loved everything about the tiny shop and our host.I couldn’t remember the last time I’d paid that kind of focused attention to such a simple task.The ritual changed everything—made it more important.It wasn’t like I’d never experienced the power of ritual before.I grew up taking communion alongside everyone else in the Methodist church in the town I grew up in.I’d just never felt the shift from mundane to sacred quite as clearly.The man at the shop did more than brew tea.He turned the whole process into a kind of prayer.
“It was my pleasure,” said Erik, sounding like he was talking about more than the tea lesson.
It was as if the man had a dial that let him turn up the heat between us with nothing but his voice, the same way the shop owner turned up the burner under the kettle.I was well on my way to scorching when Erik reached for my hand and resumed tracing the lifelines etched in my palm.
“Thinking of giving up law for fortune telling?”I had to do something to break the tension I felt building inside me.It was a classic smart-ass defense mechanism, but just because I realized it didn’t mean I could do anything about it.I was afraid being too honest with Erik for too long might be dangerous for my mental health.Not that wisecracking like a sullen teenager was a much better stance.
“Some days there’s not much separating the two.Both professions depend to a certain extent on performance.”
And lying.I’d gone with some girlfriends in high school to see a fortune teller at the county fair.Madame Zelda had promised me fame and academic acclaim.It’s not the reason I’d gone the whole way for a PhD.I wasn’t that fickle, but I’d thought about it over the years.The dusty incense-filled tent and the turbaned soothsayer spinning fairy tales that promised each of us exactly what we wanted and made a part of me believe I could have it.But Erik had been uncharacteristically nice.Calling him a liar seemed like a bad way to repay his effort, so I managed to hold my tongue.
He played with my fingers, stroking my hand and my desire—honestly, it was like the man had installed a link between my clit and my ring finger when I wasn’t looking—as we headed downtown.
“So explain to me what today had to do with dominance and submission.”Holding hands in the car felt too much like being on a date.It seemed prudent to drag things back to the reason we were spending time together.
“Today, Alexandra, is about you learning how to please me.”
He said the words as if it were the most natural assumption in the world—that I’d care about his pleasure and want to be the one to please him.I opened my mouth to refute his claim and then shut it again.I actually did want to please him, which I have to say shocked the hell out of me.Maybe it was being raised to be the good girl.To be agreeable.But I didn’t think so.That felt inauthentic.I shoved the thought into a box to look at later or to ignore if it messed too badly with my self-identity.
“And how would I go about doing that?”I swallowed hard, hoping he didn’t hear the way my voice hitched and knowing he did.With his thumb pressed against my wrist, he’d feel my pulse hammering away.I could spin with the best of them, but I didn’t stand a chance at pulling off disinterested with Erik.Not anymore.We’d gone too far for that.
“I’ll show you when we get to my place.”
